


burnt out from the joy ride

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Come Marking, Comeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hair Pulling, HarringrovePornathon, HarringrovePornathon 2019, HarringrovePornathon Day 4, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Parties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 02, Rough Sex, Smut, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19396090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Steve and Billy go to parties. Everything else is inevitable.(Written for HarringrovePornathon Day 4! Only a tad late.)





	burnt out from the joy ride

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to finish this in time to post yesterday, but a nap turned into full-on sleep, so you're getting this a day late. This also may have gotten a tad out of hand re: the porn-levels contained therein.
> 
> Title from "Almost (Sweet Music)" by Hozier. I'm predictable that way.
> 
> I [tumble](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com) again, but I'm mostly on Discord as **Highsmith#6255**.

On nights when it's too cold and too dark, and the knowledge he's still stuck in Hawkins too stifling to let him breathe properly, Steve goes to parties to drink other people's booze and to pass out in other people's beds. It just so happens to be the same parties Billy Hargrove goes to.

In the month or so since Steve got his ass kicked in Joyce Byers's kitchen, he's started an unlikely and completely accidental truce with Billy Hargrove, which has turned somewhere along the way into begrudgingly going to parties together for lack of other options on both sides, and then into something quite different indeed.

Hargrove's become Billy, and Steve's no longer Harrington, and the red solo plastic cups stay mostly untouched for the entire night, until _finally_ Steve finds himself being pushed bodily into a secluded outside wall by a startlingly sober Billy mouthing at the nearest available patch of skin.

He scrapes his cheek against the roughness of the wall bearing his neck for kisses and nips, and Billy's enthusiasm isn't so much contagious as fanning already existing sparks into delicious flames. Steve wants nothing more than to burn a little.

Which is how they end up in Vicki Kotomski's parents' guest bedroom on a side of their house few of their peers have yet managed to stumble upon.

As aware as Steve is, as aware as the both of them undoubtedly are, that they should be more cautious, more discreet, it's difficult to _care_ when they've got a door which locks between them and the rest of the house and the party and the outside world. Steve would be lying if he said it didn't make him hot, _hotter_ , thinking about it. Didn't make his dick hard. Not as hard as Billy's tongue in his mouth does, but just that little bit more, enough to have him leaking in his jeans as they push each other around the room and onto the waiting empty bed.

Then Billy kisses him until his own lips tingle and Billy's are swollen apple-red, ripe enough to bite into, which Steve does, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence, lazily certain he can have this however many times he wants, over and over again.

When Billy pulls back to hover over him on the bed, his pupils are all blown wide and dark, the blue of his eyes all but gone. The only light in the room is from the bright full moon outside the window, its rays streaming through the half-open blinds. It lights up Billy's face in sharp horizontal slants. Steve can only swallow heavily and pant into the air between them, quick huffs of warm air, mixing his breath with Billy's, whose expression he can't quite read. Then he finds himself pulling Billy back down by the nape of his neck to lick at his lips, and at the inside of his cheek, and the backs of his teeth, until it's messy and wet, and _exactly_ why Steve even came here tonight.

Their jeans are the first to go. They fumble with zippers and buttons, and have to drag themselves away from each other to yank them completely off. Then it's shirts, their jackets long-forgotten in some dark downstairs corner. Somewhere along the line, Steve's thighs open wide for Billy's hips, wide enough he can feel the muscles stretching to accommodate the width of him. Billy's teeth rake along Steve's skin, the tender spot he seems to love where neck meets shoulder. Steve squirms against the sting of it until Billy gives him what he wants.

The first thrust drags their cocks together _just right_ , a vicious drag Steve fully savours until the next one, and the next, and the one after that, this one brutal enough Billy fucks him up the bed, and his head almost bumps the headboard, but Steve could give a shit when it's this fucking good.

Billy _knows_ he likes the roughness of it, likes it even more when it's skin on skin. He bites down one final time on the side of Steve's neck before moving back to finger the waistband of Steve's underwear, pulls at it until it settles underneath his balls to dig deliciously into the thin sensitive skin there, his cock now free and leaking pre all over his belly.

Then it's Billy's turn, far more efficient with it, before finally settling back against Steve. His palms are warm when he's taking hold of Steve's hips and yanking his body up hard into another rough thrust, this time wrenching a desperate mewl from Steve's throat. It would almost be embarrassing if Steve weren't so far gone.

As it is, heat unfurls low in his belly, and it only takes a few more tight thrusts and Billy's panting breaths tickling his ear, and his cock is making a streaky mess of his belly. He's spurting even more to add to the mess with every thrust of Billy's that has him chasing his own pleasure, and it spreads around in messy white slashes up his torso until finally Billy's gasping and coming with a heavy grunt.

They pass out soon after, but not before pulling their shirts back on in case the lock on the door isn't as safe in the morning as it is right now. Their come cools underneath, likely to have their shirts sticking awkwardly to skin come tomorrow.

Steve comes awake again with a start sometime in the small hours right before dawn. The house is quiet and the room is still partially dark, and his muscles are sore in the way that can only come from a good fuck.

Although he knows they should be getting dressed to leave before anyone comes looking for them, or, worse, Vicki checks the house for stragglers, he can only muster up enough control over his own limbs to stretch lazily within Billy's hold.

He can't be sure if that's what wakes Billy up. As it is, he can hear him mumbling sleepily, his mouth open on Steve's neck, and instead of pulling himself away and out of the bed they shouldn't be caught sharing, he snuggles that little bit closer to Steve's body, the arm thrown haphazardly over Steve's waist in the middle of the night now pulling them closer together, Billy's hold no longer a loose, passive thing.

Like this, his cock gets snugged up tight against the crease of Steve's cheeks through two pairs of underwear. Has Steve swallowing deeply and half-hard already.

"You wanna?" Steve whisper-asks, hopeful and unwilling to hide it at all. The words are firecrackers in the quiet of the room.

He's barely got them out before Billy's groping for Steve's underwear to pull down over his ass. Then he fumbles in the space between their bodies, presumably to get his cock out.

It shouldn't be a surprise to feel the spongy head harshly poking at the backs of Steve's thighs, but he gasps at the feel of it anyway, hot cheek trembling against his pillow. Billy's arms snake around his chest to hold on like vices, his face buried in the hair at the back of Steve's neck, and his hips start a steady movement that turns rough and sloppy within moments.

"Yeah," Billy says, forehead pressed to the back of Steve's head. "Oh, _fuck_ yeah," he breathes, Steve's thighs tightening just that little bit more where Billy's cock is dragging along the underside of his crack and beneath his balls on every thrust.

It goes on like that for far too long. It's hot under the blankets, hot enough Steve's skin feels like it's blazing. He's dripping sweat, his breaths rasping on every inhale. Like this he can't get any leverage to rock back into Billy's hips, but Billy doesn't seem to mind.

On the next thrust he grabs a handful of Steve's wild morning hair and yanks him back until his neck stretches into a long line, and that makes it _even fucking better_. Just fucking _enough_. Steve's cock twitches against his stomach, and then he's coming in a mess of white streaks onto the bedspread.

The pressure of Billy between his thighs lasts only a few moments longer. When he comes, it's with one hand deep into Steve's hair and the other leaving white fingerprints that'll turn bruise-purple before long onto his hip. It spreads in the space between them, but mostly between Steve's thighs with each subsequent thrust that's edging from good to too much.

With Billy's dick softening he can't keep his place without slipping out every few seconds. He puffs in frustration against the nape of Steve's neck, but leaves off trying to fuck against him. Instead, he presses tightly in the seam between his cheeks, his cock slick and still half-hard against his hole.

They should really be going. 

They move apart reluctantly to reach for their jeans. Steve's about to drag his underwear all the way on when Billy grabs at his wrist, and Steve turns to watch a frown deepening in the crease between his eyebrows. 

"Leave it, yeah?" Billy says. Asks as he shoots a look at the runny mess between Steve's legs.

As if Steve won't be fucking wearing it for as long as he can get away with.

He smiles all guileless at him before he's nodding with a crooked grin anyway.


End file.
